Title: The Devil Has Blue Eyes

By: Aina Song

Fandom(s): Gundam Wing

Genre: Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

Rating: PG-15

Warning(s): Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

Pairing(s): Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

Reviews: Yes, please.

Author's Note: (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so without the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

Teaser: He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Quatre went into Heero's arms as easily and naturally as if he'd always done it. All the disagreements and the suspicions between them seemed to dissolve and disappear forever.

After a long kiss, Heero pulled away slightly, then rested his forehead against Quatre's. He was breathing heavily, and he made a groaning sound of amusement. "If we don't stop this, we're never going to finish that conversation."

"I don't care," the blond said, hands fisting the sides of Heero's shirt at his waist and pulling him closer.

The darker man laughed and brushed the knuckles of his fingers along the side of Quatre's face. Smiling softly, he threaded his fingers through the other's shortened tawny strands. "I like your hair this way…"

They sat together on the bed, Heero taking Quatre's hand in his own and gripping it firmly. "It seems there are some few in town who still remember Duo fondly. They requested that he be buried in the cemetery there."

"Do you think Duo would have wanted that?"

"Honestly?" Heero said quietly, "No. I think he would prefer to lie under the ashes of the church that had been his first home, where died the only family he knew. But I could think of no kind way to refuse, and they were his friends. So I agreed."

Quatre nodded, silently. He could see the burning heartache in the other's eyes, the pain Heero strived so hard to hide. This man had found and lost the truest of companions; such a tragedy would have left a scar on his heart which might never fully heal.

"I believe he really did come here to try and protect you, and that he saw whoever started the fire. That person killed him."

"I believe that, too."

Heero's mouth tugged in a small smile; he seemed relieved at Quatre's trust in Duo, and in him. "From now on, I don't want you out of my sight. Whoever set that fire is still here, and he wants to get rid of you."

"But, why?"

"I don't know," he confessed, looking down at their clasped hands.

"But you're worried about…"

"Of course I'm worried." His eyes lifted sharply up; "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you, if tonight you had…"

"I'm all right," Quatre softly reminded. Squeezing the hand gripping his, he murmured, "Feel that? I'm not going anywhere."

Heero lurched forward, his kiss searing and tasting of desperation. "I'll hold you to that," he growled.

"Heero," the blond reluctantly wondered as they pulled away. "Are you afraid what Duo said is right… that it might be Treize?"

There was a frown between his brows as the darker man shook his head, sighing. "He has been acting strangely since you came. He seems so remote at times, as if he doesn't know what he's saying or where he is."

"But couldn't that be the result of all the years of drinking?"

"Maybe. But who else could have done such a thing? It would have to be someone not in his right mind, and I can't…"

Quatre said his next words carefully, for he did not want to upset the man further. "What about Dorothy? She hates me, Heero; she is always straight to the point on that. She doesn't want me here, she accused me of wanting to drive away your mother…"

"I've thought of that. But you said the shadow that came to your room last time could never have belonged to a woman."

"The voice I heard was just a whisper. It could've been anyone."

"I can't believe it would be Treize."

"Or Dorothy?"

He smiled; "Or Dorothy. I know it's hard to believe, but she was always very loving to me as a child, even now." He made a low sound in his throat, frustrated. "But I know you're right. It could be anyone."

He released Quatre's hand, bringing both of his up to cradle the blond's jaw. "That's why I want to know where you are every minute of the day until we can solve this thing. In the meantime, we'll let everyone think Duo did it. Perhaps the real murderer will let his guard down."

~o~

The next few days were difficult for all of them. There was a disquiet and a sadness through the entire household. Most of the servants were certain that Duo, the Demon, had died by his own hand after trying to kill Quatre. They believed he was insane and had always resented the Khushrenada family their fame and good fortune. There was even talk now that he might have been responsible for Leia's disappearance.

The wolf, Shinigami, crept about the castle every day, and sometimes Quatre could hear its lonely howls through the night. But the blond was no longer afraid of the big animal; he felt only sorry for it, knowing how much it grieved for its master.

Those few days he felt that Heero and himself were the only ones who knew the man behind the Demon myth. They and Zechs were the only ones who attended his funeral. And Quatre suspected Zechs was there, not for Duo, but for him.

The older blond had become almost as protective of Quatre as was Heero. Since that night, every time he turned around Zechs was there, watching him with a strange look of possessiveness in his silvery eyes. He knew Monsieur Merquise must have loved Leia very much, but he did not want that love transferred to him.

In the cemetery, Quatre stood close to Heero's side as the priest read the ancient words of mourning. Heero's hand gripped the blond's with tight tension. His mouth was set in a grim line, his dark eyes looking downward, as though he could not bear to face the bright sunlight.

From around his neck, Duo's golden crucifix gleamed against his dark shirt.(4)

As they drove back to the castle that day, the black wolf came from the woods. Heero whistled to it and spoke softly as the animal trotted beside the carriage. Soon Shinigami fell into a slow jog behind them, following them up the long driveway and right to the carriage house. When Heero stepped down and patted the wolf's massive head, Quatre could see the love in those clear black eyes. And he knew that Shinigami had found another master.

Gradually things returned to normal at the castle. The tension eased, and everyone turned to the events of summer and to the tending of the vineyard. But although he told no one, Quatre still felt an underlying current of something… amiss. Sometimes it woke him in the middle of the night.

Outwardly, everyone seemed happy. Even Treize was making a remarkable recovery, and this time he had not strayed from his resolve to stop drinking. He had gained healthy muscle, and he no longer had that blank, faraway look in his eyes. He and Hiromi had begun to lead a normal life. Treize seemed to be learning just how much he needed her, perhaps even loved her. Quatre knew that pleased Heero, and it pleased him as well.

As life returned to normal, Hiromi began to speak of a summer cotillion. Quatre sensed it was the first of its kind there in many years. Knowing how much it meant to her, he agreed to help, even though he felt he would still be awkward and out of place at such a formal event. But it would be an opportunity to put the tragedy behind them and to visit with their neighbors. It had been some time since Quatre had seen Relena and her mother.

They'd often had Mariemeia out on Saturdays, and now he began to think the little girl might enjoy the cotillion, might even like to spend the night at the castle. She had developed an immediate friendship with Cathy, and spent as much time with Cathy and Trowa as she did with Quatre.

The portrait of his mother had been recovered from the rooftop where Quatre had thrown it the night of the fire. It had apparently landed flat and, except for a few scratches, was in its original condition. The finding of it had prompted many comments; everyone had forgotten about it. But, mindful of Hiromi's feelings, Quatre asked that it be hung in his room.

The portrait also seemed to awaken more old memories in Zechs. He decided he wanted to take up the brush again, to paint another portrait in time for the cotillion. And he requested Quatre as its subject. It would be a kind of unveiling ceremony, the older blond said. Although Quatre felt uneasy about spending so much time in his company and did not want to encourage him, everyone else seemed to think it was a great idea. So he agreed.

~o~

The castle had come alive the week before the cotillion. Every piece of furniture, every elegantly curved chandelier, was cleaned and polished. The oak paneling was rubbed to a gleaming patina, leaving the scent of lemon was throughout the castle. Finally the floors of the ballroom were scrubbed and buffed until they glistened; no one would be allowed in the room until the night of the event.

Quatre spent almost every afternoon with Zechs, who insisted on doing his painting outside. The older blond said the light was better there, and he liked the dappled play of sunlight through the tall canopy of leaves. He would allow no one to come into the isolated part of the courtyard where they were, and he guarded his painting fervently.

Heero always accompanied Quatre to the courtyard and came back for him; Wufei waited in the shadows in between, on orders to respond immediately if Quatre called for him. Zechs would often shake his head at Heero's fierce protectiveness, even seem insulted at times that Heero could not trust an old friend. When Quatre tried to reassure the older blond, Zechs would simply look at him with that same slow half-smirk and return to his painting.

Few days before the cotillion, Cathy knocked at Quatre's door. Her pretty eyes were nervous as she asked to speak with him. But when he let her in the room, she paced the floor, wringing her hands.

Quatre, sitting in a chair, chuckled lightly at her nervousness. "Just tell me, Cathy. Is it about the wedding?"

"Well, sort of. It's just… I know how much little Mariemeia means to you. And now you and Mister Heero are getting serious…"

"Are we?" The blond asked, arching a pale eyebrow teasingly.

She dropped her hands, looking at him with a wry smile of her own. "What I'm trying to ask is, would you mind if Trowa and I adopted Mariemeia? We love her so much, and the poor girl needs a good home. But if you and the young master had plans…"

"Oh," he said, his humor at her discomfort fleeing the moment he understood her. "Cathy… I love Mariemeia, too. She'll always be my Beautiful. But… I can't think of any two people who'd make better parents for her than you and Trowa."

"You mean you don't mind?"

"Of course I don't mind. Does she know yet?"

"No, we're going to tell her tomorrow." For a moment Cathy's face became serious, her eyes troubled. "She's become used to being here, and you've been so generous with her. I hope she won't be disappointed with what Trowa and I have to offer."

Quatre's smile made a swift return at that. "I'm sure she won't feel that way at all."

~o~

Finally the evening of the cotillion arrived, and suddenly the castle was thrown into a buzz of activity. Servants hurried along the halls, bringing bath water and taking clothes to be pressed at the last moment.

Quatre had dressed in a fine three-piece suit. His shirt and pants were white, his vest a pale grey; his white jacket was trimmed with subtly gleaming silver threads. His sleeves were cuffed with the silver links Relena had sent with her brother's grey suit that long-ago day. The wild curls of his tawny hair he had wetted with sea-salt scented cologne and combed back from his face.

He was searching through an old leather pouch, which contained the few possessions Rasid had passed along to him. There was one thing he absolutely knew had never belonged to the gypsy that had raised him. Quatre had learned that the Darlian crest was a white stag, rearing on its hinds legs as though in the midst of defending itself. The silver signet ring he spilled now from the pouch of leather bore a rose in full bloom.

Rosemont Castle. A rose signet.

Quatre slipped the ring onto the first finger of his right hand, just as Heero knocked at his door to bring him downstairs.

4) I pictured this in my mind so clearly. It made me cry. Could someone please draw it for me?